


Decimated

by WritingPains



Series: Torn Apart [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Avengers - Freeform, De-Aged Tony Stark, Enhanced Tony Stark, Hurt Tony Stark, Hydra (Marvel), Kidnapped Tony Stark, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Movie: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Super Soldier Serum, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric, Tony-centric, super soldier Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2019-10-04 18:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17309468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingPains/pseuds/WritingPains
Summary: Tony is left for dead.For better or worse, his life is saved, but his mind is not.*Tony is left in the Siberian bunker and is taken in and brainwashed by HYDRA. The Avengers have to rescue as much of him as they can.





	1. Chapter 1

The cold had wormed its way past the armour and settled over Tony’s aching bones, like a blanket of ice. He doesn’t mind. The pain had become a part of him already. He almost didn’t remember who he was before that. Was he ever not in pain? Tony can’t be certain. But at least the cold reminds him that he’s capable of feeling something new. He was worried for a moment there, after his body succumbed to a vague nothingness.

Tony feels numb. The cold is helping, he guesses, to fight that physical numbness, but it does nothing to combat to mental numbness. He’s doing it to himself, he knows. He doesn’t want to think. His entire life has been spent thinking, working to combat future problems before they even happen. Constantly thinking about ways to improve peoples lives and keep those he loves safe. And where has that thinking gotten him? On the floor of a Siberian bunker, where he’s going to die.

He supposes that it was stupid of him to think his life would end any other way. Has he not been betrayed at every turn by the people he was supposed to care about? First, his father. His father ignored him when Tony just sought out approval. His father mocked him when he surpassed his father’s own intelligence. Howard wanted a smart, obedient child, but he didn’t want said child to be smarter than him. The day a reporter has said ‘you must be so proud that your son shows signs of an intelligence greater than even yours’ was the day Tony’s father finally snapped.

Tony had never been hit by his father before, but the moment they got home, Tony was backhanded and locked in his room for three days. Jarvis had been given a week off, so Tony had no hope of getting out before his father decided to allow it.

Tony had cried for the first four hours. He cried because any belief his father had loved him left him. He cried because he didn’t understand what he had done wrong. He just wanted to make his father proud, but instead, he’d made him angry. What was he supposed to have done? He didn’t know. He cried because his mother made no attempt to comfort him. He cried because he wanted Jarvis. He cried because he didn’t know when he was going to be let out. When he was going to be given food. He didn’t know.

After those four hours, Tony had hiccupped himself to sleep. When he woke up and realized the door was still locked, he also realized that no one was going to save him. And even though he didn’t know what he’d done wrong, he knew it must have been something. His father had never hurt him before, so there must have been a reason. So, Tony figured that staying out of his father's way was the best way to avoid this happening again.

Tony lays on the cold floor, frostbite nipping at his toes, and he still manages to find the energy to smile sadly. Maybe if he’d treated Rodgers more like Howard, this wouldn’t have happened. He always seemed to be doing something wrong around the Avengers, and it was always Steve who got the pleasure of shouting at Tony. If Tony had just avoided them, as he had done with his father, this wouldn’t have happened.

Tony isn’t sure if Steve was aware that his suit would be rendered useless once he’d smashed the reactor. Tony was almost disappointed that he hadn’t just smashed the shield into his neck, and killed him on impact. It would have been better than slowly dying like this, feeling his life slip away by the second. If Steve did know, then Tony supposes that it’s nothing in terms of the cruelty he had shown by allowing Tony to fund the hunt for his parent's murderer. That was colder than the sub-zero temperatures around him.

Again, the betrayal. First Howard, and then Obie. Obadiah was the one who replaced his parents when they had died. Except, in many ways, he was better. For a start, he seemed to genuinely care, which was something so alien to Tony that he latched onto it like a limpet. He soaked in every ounce of attention and every small compliment. He depended on it. And then all those years, that fatherly relationship, fell apart. He has never truly processed that particular betrayal.

The only people in his life that he can honestly say he trusts are Pepper and Rhodey, and even they aren’t completely innocent. He’ll never forget how against him they were when he announced leaving weapons for good. They hadn’t seemed to care for the fact that he needed to end his ‘merchant of death’ reign, hadn’t cared that the guilt weighed on him like an anvil on his shoulders.

Fortunately, they came around to his way of thinking and have stuck by his side since. But he knows that he’s a strain on their lives. Reckless, no sense of self-preservation. He can barely remember to feed himself and sleep. He’s a liability, and they’ll be better off without him. Whether or not they’ll openly agree with him is a different story. Maybe Steve did know, and he was doing it to save Rhodey and Pepper from a life stained with a Stark. That’s a commendable act, he guesses.

There’s no telling how long Tony has been in the cave for. He’s sunk in and out of consciousness the entire time he’s been there, but he’s sure it’s been longer than four days. He’s hungry. Thirst gnaws at his throat. Pain streaks across his body at random intervals. And to make matters worse, he feels disappointment. Disappointed that no one was coming for him. Disappointment that he ever thought someone might. 

Disappointment in himself for ever thinking he deserved anything more. Because he doesn’t, does he? He’s done a few things that he could argue were good, but it’s him he’s talking about. There must have been a selfish want in there somewhere. Everyone always calls him egotistical, so it would make sense.

So yeah. He deserves this. The pain. The abandonment. The misery.

“Well well well, what do we have here?”

Tony startles at the sudden noise, and the movement is so agonizing that he almost blacks out. When the darkness clears, he sees a face above him. It’s unfamiliar, but it’s undoubtedly a bad guy. Big scar across the eye, snarl as viscous as a starved snake, a golden tooth shining with the weak sunshine. Bad guys vibes are off the charts.  
Tony would have found the cliché hilarious had he not been certain in that second that he was looking into the face of his death.

 

“Mr Rogers, Ms Romanoff, Mr Wilson, please come to my office,” T’Challa orders.

He stalks out of the apartment he’d set up for the Avengers and he hears them following him. They don’t say a word, don’t discuss the potential of what he may want from them. They haven’t spoken much since they arrived. Steve has been especially quiet since Mr Barnes went into Cryo. 

“We have a problem,” he says once he’s behind his desk. “Mr Stark is missing.”

Mr Rogers loses all colour in his face.

“Is he… he was in a bit of a state when… he might still be in Siberia.”

T’Challa shakes his head sadly.

“That was my first suggestion when Ms Potts called me. Vision had been alerted to a distress signal sent out once the suit had come online.  
However, it appears the suit was powered up to get Mr Stark out of the suit since damage prevented a manual release.”

“He couldn’t get out?” Steve says faintly. “We left him in the freezing temperatures, trapped in his suit?”

“It appears so. He was also taken unconsciously. There was one set up footsteps going in, and one going out, but with drag marks that are likely from his feet.”

“Do we have any leads?” Natasha asks.

“Well, since it was an abandoned Hydra base, we’re making some educated guesses,” T’Challa says coldly.

“We’ll find him,” Mr Wilson promises.

“You owe him that much,” T’Challa says, dismissively.

Natasha nods. She’s very no-nonsense. T’Challa knows that without her, they’d have no hope of finding Stark. Steve is too emotional, Wilson too blinded by friendship, but Natasha is straight edged and smart to boot. While he blames them all for the fate that has befallen Tony Stark, he knows they are the only people in the world that can bring him back.  
Other than Mr Stark himself, of course. But something in T’Challa’s gut tells him that it really isn’t going to be that easy this time around. Hopefully, they find Tony, before whatever damage is being inflicted upon him, is irreversible.

 

Tony would scream if his mouth hadn’t been gagged with a mouth-guard. His wrists and ankles and strapped down with some kind of metal that digs into his skin. It doesn’t stop him from trying to break out, though he knows it’s foolish. Fortunately, any damage to his body is healed almost instantaneously, thanks to whatever version of the Super Soldier Serum they slipped him.

He never wanted this life. Extremis was already too much of an enhancement. Tony doesn’t want to be invincible. He doesn’t want to be stronger than normal. He doesn’t want to be able to heal at an extraordinary rate.

He doesn’t want to be like Captain America.

He grew up wanting that exact thing. He wanted to be more like the man his father admired too much that he’d rather search for a dead body than hang around with his son. But not now. Tony wants nothing to do with him. Steven Grant Rogers is the reason Tony is in this situation. He is directly responsible for Tony’s capture, torture and whatever else they decide to throw at him.

“Now, let’s see if we can get rid of that pesky personality, shall we?”

The man who found him on the ground in the Siberian bunker strokes Tony’s cheek gently, but there’s nothing nice about the gesture.  
This man has overseen every step of whatever process they’re putting him through.

Tony’s muffled shouting makes the man grin triumphantly. He walks to the otherwise of the room and puts his hand on a large lever.

Little bit overkill, Tony thinks to himself, frowning.

When he pulls the lever down, Tony body convulses and a heat encases his brain like he’s just ducked his head into lava. He screams into the mouth guard.

When the pain stops, his body falls limp in the chair, and the only reason he’s able to lift his head is cause Creepy Bad Guy pulls it up by his hair. 

“What is your name?”

The man pulls out the mouth guard and Tony’s mouth hangs open, his eyes focused on the man above him.

“What is your name?” CBG asks again, more forcefully this time.

“T-Tony Stark. Iron Man. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

The man shoves Tony’s head back and puts the mouth guard back in.

“You’re ‘The Mechanic’,” CBG tells him. “Not Tony Stark. Not Iron Man. None of that other crap.”

Tony glowers at the man, but his eyes widen again when the man moves over to the lever. The pain is somehow worse, and Tony screams louder, convulses harder, prays for death longer.

“What is your name?”

“Fuck you.”

Tony isn’t one to give up. He’s not some pathetic creature that gets hurt once by Captain America and he just gives in. He’s not going to work for Hydra. He’s not going to work for anyone. He’s going to fight them, go home, help Rhodey, work on the accords and —

The lever is pulled down again.

“What is your name?”

“Eat shit, you bastard.”

Tony will not give in. He’ll suffer as long as he needs to. He did it in Afghanistan, he can do it here. He’ll survive, he’ll fight, he’ll —

“What is your name.”

“Anthony fucking Stark.”

The game is played, and neither relents. Tony’s body gives up on him, but his mind does not. He refuses to allow it. It’s the one thing he needs the most in the world. The thing that has brought food to the hungry, light to those in the dark, relief to those under pressure, life to those facing death. Tony May have been the merchant of death, but that’s not who he is anymore. He’s grown. He’s better. 

He’ll never repay the debts he owes, but if he dies now, he’ll never get the chance to keep trying. He won’t let that happen.

“— highly experimental.”

Tony tries to tune into the conversation happening across the room, but the ringing in his ears is making it hard to do. Whatever it is, though, he’s certain it’s not good.

“—susceptibility increases —“ 

More words marred by the ringing.

“— non-fatal, we think —“

Lord, they’re going to kill him by being stupid. That’s not good. That’s not good at all. He never got to tell Pepper he loved her. Never got to apologise to Rhodey for getting him into this mess. Never got to tell Bucky he didn’t blame him, but let Steve know that it absolutely was his fault things went down the way they did. He’s going to miss all of those opportunities because these idiots fancy themselves scientists and are gonna kill him with some stupid attempt at making him docile.

“Prep him for injection,” someone says.

The next thing Tony knows, he’s being hauled out of the damned chair and restrained on a gurney. The CBG’s face appears over his and he grins at him.

“Hopefully you survive this. I’ve always wanted a pet genius.”

Tony would have spat in his face if it wasn’t for the mouth guard that was still in place. He struggles against the cold metal as he’s wheeled into what looks like an operating room.

“This’ll likely sting,” a woman says as she jabs the needle into his neck and pushes the liquid into his body. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tony wants to shout out a witty retort as they all leave the room, but before he can even think of one, his body stiffens and the sensation of a million pins pricking his body startles him.

The pain is bearable. He’s definitely had worse. But the tingling left behind after the pain subsides makes him uncomfortable. And then the fuzziness in his brain makes it worse. His eyes get blurry, his body feels weaker than it has since he was a kid. The pain returns, milder this time, and Tony tries to call out, only to remember he can’t.

He’s trying to process what’s happening when he feels sleep dragging him down, and he doesn’t count it as giving in as he falls to the depths.

 

“Tony could be anywhere!” Rhodey roars, slamming his fist onto the table. “And you left him there! Handed him over to whoever felt like they wanted him. They could be doing anything to him right now! He could be dead! And if he is, I’ll see to it that you’re held personally responsible for his death.”

Steve takes the tirade stoically. He deserves it. He knows he does. He should not have left Tony behind. He should have sent someone to pick him up.

He learnt that they didn’t get that signal from the suit booting up until three days after he left for Siberia. Which means he’d have been freezing in that suit, alone, assuming he was going to die. And Steve is responsible for it.

He doesn’t regret defending Bucky, though. Tony was lashing out, and that needed to be stopped. But not like this.

“You bring him back, Mr Rogers or I’ll see to it personally that you suffer every day that we don’t have him.”

Steve nods and retreats, joining Sam and Natasha in the hallway.

Natasha hasn’t said anything to either of them since they started the search unless it’s been strictly necessary. Their relationship turned utilitarian the moment she learned the truth about what they had done to Tony in that bunker.

Steve can’t believe how badly he managed to screw up, and he’s insanely guilty. The only way he can fix this is by finding Tony and mending the rift between them. 

He just hopes it won’t take too long. The longer Tony is missing, the higher the chances they have of him being dead. And he’ll never be able to make amends for killing Iron Man.

~~~

“I cannot believe it worked.”

Tony wakes up feeling weird. Not good weird, either. Uncomfortable weird. Somethings wrong. Something is really, badly wrong. And Tony is terrified to learn the details of it.

“Ah, he’s awake.”

Tony’s eyes find CBG and he flinches when the man pats him on the cheek. His hand looks huge, and Tony feels even more disoriented because of it.

“It’s absolutely incredible, what science can achieve these days,” he says smugly. “And if our predictions are correct, only a few more sessions in the chair, and you’ll be ours, in your mind and your body.”

Tony narrows his eyes.

“What are you —“

Tony freezes. His voice. It sounds different. Higher pitched. Like he never went through puberty. Are they trying to render his voice back useless? 

“Yes, it’s worked better than we expected. Come now.”

CBG grabs Tony’s arm and pulls him off the bed. Tony barely has time to wonder when they’d removed the restraints when he realises something that is worse than his voice changing.

He’s shrunk.

Not by a huge amount, but enough that CBG is almost two heads taller than him. Tony feels smaller too. Thinner, lighter. 

It’s not until they’re in the room with the chair that he catches a glimpse of his reflection. He stumbles to a stop, and CBG pulls him along, forcing him into the chair. Tony barely notices. His mind is stuck on that image in the window. The image of his own face.

Except, it’s how he looked when he was in his early teens.

“What did you do?” Tony demands.

CBG laughs 

Pain grabs his brain and squeezes. It’s relentless. 

“What’s your name?”

“It’s Tony Stark!”

More pain. 

“What’s your name?”

“I… uh… I’m… Stark.”

Again.

“What’s your name?”

“I don’t know.”

Rinse. Repeat.

“What’s your name.”

“Mechanic?”

“Good.”

Tony thinks he’s safe, but the pain comes back. He’s forced to acknowledge his new name over and over until he’s not sure he was ever anyone before this moment.

“What’s your name?”

“I am the Mechanic.”

“Where are you from?”

The Mechanic stares at his handler.

“How old are you?”

The Mechanic does not reply.

“Who are the Avengers?”

The Mechanic does not know.

“Excellent,” The Handler says, gleefully. “Take him to his cell. Teach him the mission. Prepare him for his life here.”

The Mechanic is led out of the room by a woman. She walks him to a room, sits him down on a bed and hands him a thick pile of paper.

“Read these and have them finished by tomorrow.”

The Mechanic nods. He gets straight to work.

 

“It’s been three weeks and you’ve found nothing?” Rhodey asks, wheeling himself into the conference room. “You supposed to be Avengers. Or does Tony’s life not mean that much to you? Though, I guess the fact that we’re in this mess answers that question!”

Steve, Natasha And Sam have been searching nonstop for Tony, but every lead turns up cold. Rhodey knows this. Steve has been reporting every second of their search to him, keeping him up to date with everything. But Steve understands that Rhodey needs to scream and shout about it. He’s not been able to do much else while he’s having physical therapy and unable to walk.

“And to make matters worse, every time FRIDAY manages to find her way into a system that might hint at where he is, some hacker called  
‘The Mechanic’ shouts her out. We’ve no way in!”

Rhodey slams his fist onto the table and wheels himself out of the room. Steve, Sam and Natasha return to their work. They’re running out of leads, and they’re losing hope that Tony will turn up alive.  
What else could Hydra be doing to him?

 

“Ready to comply.”

“Excellent,” Handler says, putting a hand on The Mechanics shoulder.  
“Your mission is to kill Steve Rogers.”

The Mechanic does not think. Has no emotions to express. Offers no opinion. But the woman behind him has no such problems.

“You’re sending him in against Captain America? The boy has no training! Brute force will mean nothing in the face of honed skill!”

“Once the Captain sees who he is up against, he will be incapable of fighting. The boy will succeed on the captain's failures alone.”

“His programming may not be strong enough to hold up against such strong stimuli!”

“Then that is a fault that lays squarely on your shoulders. You best hope it holds strong.”

The Mechanic does not speak. He waits for further instruction and prepares himself for a fight. He is given three weapons. A shorthand dagger, a pistol, and a cell phone.

After his test run with the computer, he has learnt that he holds a natural instinct over electronic devices. He was ordered to set up security walls to prevent people from breaking in. He’s been going head-to-head with someone called FRIDAY for the past two weeks.

“Come, Mechanic. I’ll accompany you to the mission.”

The Mechanic follows The Handler through the building and outside. Something in the back of his mind tells him that there’s something significant about being in the sun but focusing too heavily on that thought hurts. He has to focus on the mission and the mission alone. That’s the reason he is alive. That’s the reason he was made.

 

“Mr Rogers, there has been a breach in security,” FRIDAY announces loudly, jerking Steve awake. “The perpetrator is unknown. There is one assailant, though they appear to be receiving orders.”

“Armed?” Steve asks as he throws his regular clothes on. 

He doesn’t have time to battle with putting on the suit. And it doesn’t feel right on him anymore anyway. Not after what he’s done.

“They appear to have a small gun and a small dagger.”

“Alert the others, guide me to the intruder.”

Friday doesn’t say another word as she uses the lights to guide Steve through the compound to wherever this misguided idiot has broken in.

Steve does not appreciate his time being wasted on some overconfident bad guy that’s chosen to die on this hill. Who in their right mind chooses to break into the very place that they know houses superhumans and heroes? 

Obviously, they’re not in their right mind, Steve thinks to himself.  
Natasha and Sam appear at his side and together they run forward, skidding to a stop when they find someone stood in the training room, wearing goggles and a mask that covers their entire face.

They’re wearing black wraps around their hands, and a black padded jacket that is definitely bulletproof around the chest. They’re also wearing heavy military style boots and tight black trousers. He looks ready to battle, but something is very very wrong.

“Is that a kid?” Sam asks, stumbling back a few steps.

“Has to be,” Steve agreed, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. “Hi. We don’t want to hurt you –” 

Evidently, the kid does not share the sentiment, because, in a flash, he’s pulled the knife from his belt and dropped to his knees and propelled himself towards Steve, his dagger slashing across the back of his elbow. The kid then rises to his full height, which is barely at Steve’s collar, and he throws his knee into Steve’s stomach, which hurts far more than he expected it to.

He is pushed back a few steps, and Natasha and Sam both being out their weapons. It’s obvious from the looks on their faces that none of them is particularly enthralled with the idea of fighting with a child, but maybe if they can incapacitate him for now, they can figure out the rest later.

The kid stays on the offensive, striking out and attacking them when he finds an opening, but it becomes startlingly obvious that while he has some training, enough that someone like Tony could have had a tough time in hand-to-hand battle, he’s got nothing on military vets and a trained assassin.

“Kid, you need to stop before you get hurt,” Steve urges, desperately. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

Much to his and his teammate's surprise, the kid stops. He drops the dagger to the floor and holds both hands at his sides stiffly. Steve can’t see his eyes, but if the position of his face is anything to make a guess by, he’s staring ahead.

“Good boy.”

The hairs on the back on Steve’s neck rise at the sound of the voice. It’s unfamiliar, but it’s cold and the way he speaks to the kid, it’s like he’s a pet. It makes Steve sick.

A man with a large scar down his face and piercing blue eyes steps into the room and places a hand on the kids’ shoulder. He looks immensely smug, even when he pulls a gun out and holds it to the kid’s head. Steve feels sicker when the kid doesn’t even move or flinch.

“Who are you?” Natasha hisses, a gun out and trained at his chest already. “And who is the kid?”

“I’m Smith. You don’t need to know more than that. As for the kid, he was a gift. I opened him like a present on Christmas morning and took him home.”

“People aren’t ‘gifts’,” Steve shouts, enraged. “Let him go.”

“He doesn’t want to go. Isn’t that right, Mechanic?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re Hydra,” Natasha says. “You’ve reached a whole new level, making soldiers out of children.”

“Oh, this isn’t any old child,” the man says. “This boy is special.”

The man with the scar pulls down the mask and lifts the goggles.  
Steve can’t tear his eyes away from the boy. He looks like he’s thirteen, but there’s a hardness to his face, and emptiness to his eyes, that isn’t natural. But the worst part is that this is very clearly a younger version of their missing teammate.

“Tony?”

The boys head tilts ever so slightly.

“What is a Tony?”

Natasha is in action almost immediately, throwing a widow bite at the man. It latches onto his bicep and sends an electric current through his body. Fortunately, he drops the gun as he collapses to the floor.

Tony looks stricken, and he takes a step backwards, eyes darting from Steve to Smith quickly.

“Tony, were your friends.” Steve takes a brave step forward and smiles warmly. “You need to let us help you.”

Tony doesn’t hesitate, he just lifts the man over his shoulder with impossible strength and tries to retreat. There’s a fear in his eyes that breaks Steve’s heart, but he can’t let it interfere with the mission.

“FRIDAY lockdown! No one gets in or out!”

“On it.”

It doesn’t stop Tony though, who despite being hindered with the weight of another body, still manages to beat them to the door. He rips off the electronic cover and deftly works the wires until the door clicks open and he races onto the next. Fortunately, he’s not quick enough. 

By silent agreement, Sam grabs Smith from Tony’s shoulders and Steve wraps his arms around Tony’s chest, in an attempt to restrain him. Tony’s elbow comes up and smacks Steve’s chin, sending him flying backwards, and his right leg comes out, kicking Sam in the chest, forcing him to drop Smith.

Tony grabs him quickly and then throws something on the floor, which erupts into thick smoke, that leaves them all choking. By the time they’re able to see again, Tony and Smith are gone, and FRIDAY informs them that they’ve fled the building.

“I don’t know where to begin talking about how messed up that was,” Sam says. “But that was pretty messed up.”

“We need to call the rest of the team in. He might not be a seasoned fighter, but he’s strong and his skills will only improve the longer he’s away from us,” Steve says.

“I planted a tracker on his suit. FRIDAY call in the team and alert Rhodey and Pepper to the news. We’ll track them from here and then make a plan of attack.

 

“You failed,” Handler accuses, pushing Mechanic into the chair. “You failed, and you let me get hurt.”

Mechanic knows better than to talk without permission, but something about this feels unjust. It’s not his fault, it was Handlers for getting cocky. Mechanic is certain that he didn’t even want to hurt those people. He can’t put his finger on why but —

“You’re thinking,” Handler shouts, poking his finger painfully into Mechanics' chest. “You shouldn’t do that.” 

Once the locks are in place and the mouth guard shoved in, Handler walks across the room. Mechanic screams. It’s muffled, but it’s as close to begging that he can manage. He doesn’t want the pain, because the pain leaves him empty. He was so close to feeling something, and it helped him to know that he wanted that.

Handler pulls the lever and again, all Mechanic knows is his name and nothing more.

 

“You’re trying to tell me,” Rhodey says, as he rubs his temples, “that Tony is now a pre-teen mind zombie working for Hydra?”

The screen at the head of the table flickers to life and they all watch as the fight plays out for the benefit of Pepper and Rhodey.

“Oh, dear lord,” Rhodey sounds defeated as his face pales. “That’s exactly how he looked at College.”

“So, he’s eighteen?” Sam asks incredulously.

“Tony isn’t called a genius ironically,” Pepper says almost defensively. “He went when he was fourteen. Left with a master’s by the time people his own age were applying to start their bachelors. He truly is a magnificent mind.”

“What do we need to do to bring him back?” Rhodey asks. 

“We need to talk to Bucky,” Natasha says. “He’s the leading authority on being brainwashed by Hydra.”

 

“Mechanic, build me a Jericho Missile.”

Mechanic stares at Handler. Something flashes in front of his eyes. A man with a mask across his face and a large machine gun held aloft in his arms. The man is stood in the entrance to a cave, and Mechanic is holding a car battery to his chest. Handler moves, and the vision drops, and Mechanic is back in the room.

“Did you hear me?”

Mechanic did, but he can’t shake the image. Something about it was… familiar. And familiar is wrong. He has no memories. No past. Just now and the future. And in the future, his now will be erased. That is the extent of his existence. He knows that. He knows that he isn’t supposed to know anything beyond what Handler wants him to remember.

“Mechanic. Build me the Jericho Missile.”

“No.”

Mechanic is grabbed by the hair and pulled out of the mini-workshop. 

He doesn’t fight. He doesn’t protest. He doesn’t even know why he said no. He’s never said no before. He’s thrown to the floor of the handler’s office, and there is something cold and hard snapped around his neck.

“Thompson is out today, and he won’t be back for several hours,” Handler says. “He is in charge of your ensuring you stay alive during wipes and punishments. In the meantime, you are to do as I ask. Understood.”

Mechanic doesn’t understand. Who is Thompson? Is he the man in the booth that looks out over the chair? The man who never speaks to Mechanic, so he had never learnt the man’s name. Will he still know his name tomorrow? Will they put him in the chair and take him away from these thoughts? These memories that he’s forming?

“Mechanic, sit.”

Mechanic cocks his head to the side and regards the man in front of him. Why is he scared of this man? Mechanic knows he’s stronger. Knows he has more skills. The strange thing is that he doesn’t know how he knows this. He has never been in a fight, has he? He’s never hit anything before. He shouldn’t be stronger than Handler. Handler is bigger in every way. Mechanic is small and presumably, that means weak as well.

“I told you to sit.”

Mechanic does. He’s not sure why. But it’s easier.

“If you disobey me, try to escape, try to attack, that collar around your neck will put a swift end to that. I do not know how or why you are suddenly finding the brain cells to think but that ends the moment Thompson returns, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

But Tony doesn’t understand. 

Wait.

Who’s Tony?

 

“You’re asking me to take an extremely volatile and vulnerable man out of cryo so that he can recount the horrors he experienced at the hands of Hydra?” Shuri asks, incredulously. “Have you guys seen that meme with Eric Andre? Where he shoots the dude, and then he’s like ‘hey, who did that?’.”

Steve has no idea what she’s talking about, but thankfully Shuri laughs and shakes her head.

“Of course not. You’re like, one hundred. I bet you don’t even know how to turn on a phone.”

Steve is offended because he does. Tony showed him almost instantly after the Battle of New York.

“Anyway, there are going to be major consequences to doing this. You need to consider the damage it will have on James, and what damage James can inflict on other people. And any and all of these consequences will be on you. Do you understand?”

“I do. But Bucky is the only one who can help us save Tony.”

Shuri’s face darkens, and she nods and turns off skype. Apparently, everyone knows what Steve did in Siberia. Wonderful. As if he wasn’t already hated across America for turning his back on them, and every other country that signed the accords. Soon, what he’s done will be broadcasted in times square. They can hate him extra.

“Quit moping, Steve. The rest of the team are due any minute. You’re the de-facto leader for now. Do your job and lead them to Tony.”

Natasha’s words are laced with ice, and Steve wants to bed for her to forgive him. Beg her to understand. He was protecting the last thing he had that connected him to his life before the plane went down. Surely that’s not too hard to understand? Surely, they can appreciate that? Understand what that might drive a man to do?

“Steve!”

Steve turns to find Wanda bounding towards him with her arms open. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips as she launches herself into his arms.  
He never had the chance to tell her he was leaving when he left Wakanda.

“I missed you guys!” she cries, turning to hug Sam. “I can’t believe you just left me.”

“We didn’t have a choice,” Sam says, welcoming her into his arms. “We have a responsibility to find Tony.”

“Oh, Stark.”

There’s an acidity to her voice that makes Natasha give her a sharp look. Even Steve is thrown by it. He’s known that she didn’t particularly like Tony, but he’d hoped that she’d gotten over it. Especially since they were living with him at the compound for months. Apparently, that’s not true at all.

“Is there a problem?” Natasha asks.

“No. I just think it’s a waste of our time. Starks mind is gone.”

There’s a blur of movement, and the next thing anyone knows, Natasha has Wanda up against the wall by her neck. Steve and Sam both jump into action, trying to calm Natasha, but Natasha has eyes only for the girl.

“How did you know?” she demands.

“Natasha, let her go!” Steve urges.

“Don’t you see?” Natasha shouts. “She knows! Do you know how many people are aware of what’s happened to Tony that isn’t Hydra? Five. You, Sam, Pepper, Rhodey, and myself.”

“What’s going on!” Rhodey asks, as he wheels himself into the meeting room.

He takes in the scene and makes a subtle hand gesture, which causes Natasha to drop Wanda. The girl’s hands are shrouded in red, but she had enough sense to not attack Nat, for which Steve is incredibly grateful. That would have been a bloody ending, and he knows Natasha would have come out mostly unscathed.

“What did you do?” Natasha asks, calmed down, though her eyes could burn a hole through the brick.

“I didn’t do anything!” Wanda cries out, her eyes filling with tears.

“You knew that Tony had been brainwashed,” Natasha accuses. “How?”

“I heard it!”

“From whom?”

Steve takes a small step backwards, eyes not leaving Wanda and suspicions starts to arise. There’s no way she could know what happened. There’s no one that would have told her. But she wouldn’t be working with Hydra. That’s ridiculous. Right? She would never do that. Her hatred of Stark isn’t that bad.

“I don’t trust her,” Natasha announces. “She should not be anywhere near this mission.”

“I agree,” Rhodey says, eyeing the girl warily. “Send her away. She’s not welcome here.”

Steve wants to argue that they’re being overdramatic, but he can’t with certainty say that she wouldn’t do something to jeopardize Starks life. He knows that was her and her brother’s motivation for joining Hydra in the first place. He guesses he’d just blocked that part out of his mind and focused on the part where she’d willingly moved over to their side to help during the fight with Ultron.

He needs to have all his focus on finding Tony, not focused on keeping Wanda in check. He has enough damage to control to wade through without her murderous intentions coming to light. If they’re even there in the first place, that is. He still has to cope with Clint’s hatred, Sam’s indifference, Rhodey and Pepper’s overprotectiveness, Visions silence, Natasha’s cutthroat brutality, and soon, Bucky’s confusion and fear. This isn’t going to be as simple and straight forward and he might want it to be.

That evening, the entire team, plus Bucky, Pepper, and Rhodey are sat in one of the larger conference rooms, and they’re sharing what information they have gathered, while Bucky is offering what he knows of their bases and practises.

They don’t seem to be getting any closer to an answer, but they do see to be learning more about the potential horrors that their ex-teammate is being subjected to.

“I heard that Mr Stark was missing!”

A kid in a blue and red suit comes flying through the doorway, and Happy Hogan walks in after him, looking grimly from face-to-face.

“And you’re responsible,” Spider-man accuses, pointing at Steve. “What did you do?”

Steve sighs. The more people, the more ground they can cover, but it also means more people to try to explain his actions to. 

 

“Fuck you,” Tony says, as he squirms on the floor, electricity tracing its way through his veins. “You won’t win. They’ll come for me.”

Handler… no… Smith, stands over Tony with a twisted sneer.

“You were given to us,” he hisses. “You were left behind.”

“No, that’s… that can’t be!” Tony shouts. "You're lying."

His mind is warring with itself. He has memories, but the can’t place them. He has flashes of people, faces, snippets of conversations, emotions, bubbles of happiness. He can feel, see, hear it all, but it’s out of sync with himself. He doesn’t remember these things happening. He can’t place the events in his mind. Can’t even place himself within them.

“What have you done to me?”

Tony doesn’t feel like himself anymore. He’s torn between himself and the mindless soldier they’ve been pushing him to. He can’t cope. He’s suffering, but it’s a whole new type of pain. It’s mental and physical and emotional all battling for precedence in his mind, and he’s not sure he can cope. Not sure if it’s fair for someone to expect him to. He doesn’t have the will power.

“I’ve given you a new purpose,” Smith grins, his hands gripping his hair painfully. “You were a nuisance before. Not even to just Hydra. To the US government. To your friends. To your team.”

“That’s… not… true,” Tony gasps, fighting against the pain. “Stop lying!”

“Lying? If I were lying, then where are they? You’ve been here for almost four months now. They’re no doubt are aware that you’re missing. So why isn’t there a nationwide manhunt? Where are they?”

Tony refuses to believe him. He can’t fathom that so much time has passed. He’s sure he’s broken conditioning before. He’s sure that if he hadn’t done so, Handler… Smith… would look more worried. But he doesn’t. Which means Tony has surfaced above the Mechanic, but that they’ve managed to drag him back.

“Ah, Thompson. Thank you for coming so quickly. It seems Tony is trying to take back what is rightfully ours. His body. Your experiments seem to have worked though. His attempts have had him in pain for an hour.”

Thompson smiles triumphantly, and orders two men to come forward. Something is snapped around Tony’s neck and he’s dragged to a chair in the middle of a room. A mouth guard is shoved in, his limbs are strapped down, his head held still, and then pain sparks across his body, and he’s screaming through the gag.

“Who are you?”

“Fuck.”

More pain. His body cramps and convulses and cries out for relief.

“Who are you?”

“I… What…”

Fire spreads across his veins. Pounding fills his head. His stomach hardens, and his thoughts close off.

“Who are you?”

“Asset,” Mechanic gasps. “Mechanic. Soldier. Ready to comply.”

“Do it again!” Handler orders. “I don’t want to see this fall through again. Keep the Mechanic here. Push for four minutes at two-minute intervals, five times.”

“That could kill him,” someone warns.

“He’s stronger than that.”

 

“It’s been a year, Rogers,” Thaddeus Ross spits. “A year. You’ve been given temporary pardons, and between you, you can’t find one single man? Between this and the attacks on government safe spaces across Europe, were spread too thin. We’re going to have to cut this search short.”

“You can’t do that,” Rhodey argues, slamming his palms on the table. “Tony has done too much for this country, hell, this world for you to be so blasé about his rescue.”

“James, you have to understand the position I’m in here,” Ross says, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tony is a low priority in terms of national security. If the Avengers are available, we need them elsewhere.”

“But they only came back to save Tony!” Pepper argues.

“It’s been a year!” Ross yells, suddenly. “We have to pronounce him dead.”

Pepper falls into her seat, heartbroken sobs escaping her. Rhodey glares at Ross, but he ran out of hope a long time ago. Tony was vulnerable without his suit, but whatever they did to him, however, they made him look like a kid again, made him more vulnerable still. Rhodey knew it was only a matter of time before they had to accept the possibility that he would t survive. But it hurt. He didn’t want to even think about it.

“I’ll arrange an announcement today. I’m sorry.”

Ross leaves the room, and Rhodey and Pepper share in their grief. They don’t want to think of their best friend as being dead, but at this point, the maths does not lean in the favour of him living.

 

Steve, Natasha, Clint, Sam, and Bucky are in the Quinjet. They’re quiet. They’ve just seen Ross share the news of Tony’s death. It’s been almost an entire year since they last saw him, and suspicions were rising. It was a crash to hear their suspicions aloud, but they accepted it almost instantly.

But not Bucky. Bucky refused. He claimed that not seeing Tony did not mean he was dead. He argued that he was in cryo for years at a time. That he’s still alive. He was adamant that they shouldn’t be giving up.

“It’s not giving up, Buck,” Steve had promised.

“You sure about that? Because saying he’s dead and putting a stop to the search feels like giving up!”

“Bucky, you don’t — “

“Don’t you dare tell me I don’t understand, Steve. I do. I understand what Tony is going through. I understand the suffering he must have felt as they were taking ownership of his mind. I also understand how this is our fault. We left him behind. We broke his suit, tore him apart, and left him!”

“HE ATTACKED YOU!”

Natasha, Clint, and Sam all turn away. They’ve heard this argument before. It’s old. It never changes.

“He was upset!”

“He’s a grown man! He shouldn’t have reacted like that!”

“To the death of his mother? How was he supposed to react? With a nod, a smile and a ‘My bad, I understand’? What did you want from him?”

“I wanted him to think clearly!”

“After learning that his friend had been lying for years and watching his mother and father die? Would you, Steve? Would you have been calm?”

“ETA, five minutes.”

Clint’s voice cut through their anger, and Natasha shoots them both an urgent look. Steve’s mouth shuts closed, and Bucky turns away from him. 

The jet slowly lowers into the trees, the cloaking software keeps them hidden from radars and anything that might spot them. Silently, the disembark and make their way towards an underground bunker.

Ross had told them that several of the attacks on government buildings leave a trail from this place. It’s not been on a watch list, nor are there any signs that it is dangerous. Natasha has been sceptical, claiming that t might be a false lead purposefully laid out. However, Ross had insisted, saying that they’re all on thin ice and if they don’t follow orders, they’ll be arrested.

So, they head towards the hidden entrance, none feeling particularly worried, all feeling strangely resentful of Ross and tense around Bucky and Steve.

Bucky brings his fist down on a submarine style twist door and is almost instantly thrown back by a familiar blue ray of light.

“Toldja!” Bucky calls, as he rolls away.

Steve runs forward, ready to throw himself into the hole, but a smaller,  
thinner version of the Iron Man armour they’re all so familiar with.  
The shock that runs through them lasts only seconds, as the armour starts attacking with a vengeance. 

It flips above them, shooting two repulser rays aimed at Clint and Natasha, who duck out of the way. The suit comes to ground a few feet away and raises itself to its full height, which is shorter than everyone there by at least a head.

“Tony, fight the brainwashing!” Bucky shouts, before rolling to the side to avoid a blast.

Natasha leaps to the left and clambers up a tree, which she uses the vantage point of to throw two knives at the suit, one lodging itself in the shoulder joint and the other in the thigh. Sparks fly from the suit, and it becomes immediately obvious that it’s stunting its abilities, but Tony doesn’t seem tamped down by this. He kicks off from the ground and fires missiles from the working shoulder, aiming them at Nat and Steve, and then fires his repulsor again at Clint, whose arrows have been coming in fast and strong.

“We don’t want to hurt you, Tony!” Steve shouts. “Just stop fighting.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and comes to stand in the middle of the battlefield. He pulls a gun from the holster on his thigh and shoots out both of the suit’s feet repulsors, which leaves the boy to plummet from the air.  
They hear him scream, and it’s so young and desperate that Bucky’s protective instincts kick in, and he’s racing towards Tony, arms outstretched to catch him before he hits the ground.

“Don’t!” Nat shouts in warning. “It’s too heavy. He’ll survive the fall, but if he gets hurt, it will make containment easier!”

Bucky is reluctant. He doesn’t want to bring any more harm to the kid, but Natasha is right, no matter how harsh the order is. Tony is proving to be a handful, and they need to take him back and try to get him help.

So, Bucky steps back and turns his head as the suit crashes to the ground the and the screams come to an abrupt end. Almost instantly, Clint shoots an arrow at the chest of the suit, and an electric current washes over the suit, and then the lights go out.

Bucky rushes to his side and tears the suit off. Underneath the layers is a child, and Bucky is stunned by just how young he looks, but how undeniably Stark he is. His fluffy mop of brown hair, the sharpening angle of his cheeks, though youth still softens it. The lips, the eyebrows, it’s all Tony. Bucky lifts him in his arms in a bridal carry and Tony’s limp body is suddenly under his protection. He turns to the team and waits for orders because suddenly, in sharp contrast to moments ago, he’s not sure what to do. He needs direction. He needs someone to tell him what the plan is.

“Secure him on the jet. Make sure there is no way he can escape. Clint, go with him. Take the suit. Nat, Sam and I will go into the base. See what we can find.”

Bucky nods, and Clint throws the suit over his shoulder. Together, they walk back to the jet, and while Clint props the suit up in the corner, Bucky brings out soft cuffs for the boy’s wrists and ankles, and then uses the special seat, one specifically for criminals, to secure him in place. The five-point harness keeps him upright, but his head hangs listlessly.

Bucky and Clint stare at him.

“S’weird,” Clint says, after a minute of silence. “I’ve hated Tony for what he did to us. Even after he was missing, I still resented him. But now… I can’t. I know he’s not actually twelve, but damn. He looks the same age as my eldest. I can’t hate him now. He never deserved this.”

Bucky can only grunt in response. 

“What do we do now? The world thinks he’s dead.”

“Let them. As it stands, the Tony Stark you all knew is dead. The mind inside that head, it’s not going to be the same. He wasn’t with them as long as I was, but I may never be the Bucky Barnes that Steve wishes me to be again. Tony may be doomed to the same fate.”

Silence falls, and they consider the implications of their friends’ future. Bucky doesn’t have much hope. They’ve obviously used some new techniques, and whatever they are, they might be more permanent. Might offer less freedom to fight back.

“The bade was empty,” Steve says, as the rest of the team come back into the jet. “There was nothing.”

“I think we were led to him,” Natasha says. “They wanted us to find him. It was too easy otherwise.”

It makes sense. Bucky knows this. But he doesn’t appreciate it. He doesn’t appreciate that they’d use a child, even if he wasn’t always a child, to their advantage. But Bucky figures that while they might view it as a way to get Tony on the inside, he views it was a way to draw Hydra to them.

Clint and Natasha send a short report back to Ross, saying they have apprehended a person of interest, and that only people with the highest level of clearance should be allowed to see him.

Ross is confused and frustrated, but no one on the jet seems even the slightest bit bothered. Bucky and Steve are both staring at the unconscious boy while Sam paces the floor.

Tony groans when they’re loading him onto a wheelchair once they’re landed. Everybody freezes as he lifts his head and looks them all over with his deep brown eyes, empty of the humour they were all so used to seeing. And they’re so young.

“Tony?”

The boy’s sharps gaze flits over to Steve, and then he starts to take in his surroundings. He tries to pull at his restraints, and there’s finally a spark of emotion in his eyes when he realises he’s not strong enough to break out of them.

The doors of the Quinjet opens to reveal Thaddeus Ross waiting for them, his eyes widening when he sees Tony. Bucky grabs the handles and starts to push him forward, and he notices how the boy’s shoulders tense painfully tight. As much as he wishes there was, Bucky knows there’s nothing he can do to help ease his worries.

“You weren't joking,” Ross says, as he bends his knees so he’s on eye level with Tony. “He’s alive and someone knocked 30 years off of him.”

He reaches up to touch Tony’s cheek, but the boy starts to thrash in the chair and snarl like he was a rabid dog. Bucky pulls the chair away from Ross, who stumbles back in shock.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle him.”

“We’re hoping to have him seen by a trusted medical team and then contained until we can figure out how to reverse the brainwashing.”

Ross nods and turns around. They all follow him, and Tony has stopped fighting, but he’s now sitting back in the chair, his chest heaving and his eyes almost bulging with fear. Bucky was never conditioned to feel fear, which means two things; either he’s faking to garner sympathy, or his brainwashing isn’t that deep.

Bucky prays to some unnamed deity that it’s the latter.

Having Tony feel anything, anything at all will help them to break him out of whatever hold Hydra have over him.

“I’ve taken the liberty of calling in Dr Cho and Doctor Strange,” Ross informs them. “I’m not sure what this is,” he says, waving a hand towards Tony, “but we need to see if we can reverse it somehow.”

Bucky doesn’t know if it’s possible, or if it’s even in Tony’s best interest to do so, but that’s a bridge they can cross at a later date. For now, they need to figure out how deep Tony is and coordinate a plan of attack against any incoming Hydra agents.

They follow Ross into the medical wing, where there is a bed set up with restraints already attached. Bucky is already uncomfortable because he remembers the heavy restraints he endured during his time with Hydra and the consequential precautionary restraints after his release. But it’s necessary, and he hates that it’s necessary.

Tony has gone still and stiff in the seat, with a look of barely contained panic on his face. He’s not as good as wearing masks as he was before, and even though Bucky didn’t know him personally, he’d spent the last year researching everything. He’d watched every interview, read every article, listened to every speech. He felt like he knew the man, understood him and recognised the difference between his real emotions and his forced ones. 

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Bucky promises, moving to stand in front of the chair. “We’re going to move you onto the bed and strap you down again. If you resist, we will use force, if you fight, we will defend, but we will do our damned best to not hurt you.”

Confusion. Genuine confusion. And it’s only there for a second, covered almost instantly with a blank expression, but Bucky saw it. He fights for composure as he slowly reaches out for Tony and walks him through what they’re doing to limit how startled he becomes. It’s akin to tending to a wounded, frightened animal, but Tony doesn’t fight, he doesn’t panic, he’s almost completely compliant.

He’s strapped to the bed, and a nurse steps forward with an IV bag and a needle. 

“No.”

It’s the first word Tony has said in hours, and it’s laced with fear. He’s shifting his body away from the needle, and Steve chuckles, though his eyes fill with tears.

“Tony has always had a fear of needles,” Natasha says, smiling slightly. “He’s still in there.”

Tony isn’t paying anyone else attention, because his eyes are glued on the needle, and he’s as far from it as his body will allow. To Bucky, it’s almost like taking a child to get shots, and he does what he would have done for any child. He starts to calm them.

“It’s not going to hurt, Ok? But you’re malnourished and need some help to get to peak health.”

Tony whines, eyes flitting from Bucky back to the needle.

“How about this? I’ll cover your eyes, and that way you won’t have to watch. I’ll even give you my hand to squeeze.”

Tony doesn’t say anything, so Bucky takes initiative. He nods at the nurse to sterilise the crook of his arm and then apply some numbing paste. Once Tony has seen these things happen, he puts his hand over his eyes and puts his other hand in Tony’s. Almost instantly, Tony’s hand grips his with a strength that does not suit the boy’s size.

“This is Nurse Beatrice,” Bucky says, as the nurse starts to look for a vein. “She’s twenty-six, and she’s worked for the Avengers for a long time. That means she’s dealt with them all as patients, so you’re not the first to show a dislike for needles.”

The nurse gets set to insert the needle-head, so Bucky keeps talking.

“I’ve heard of one particular case where Steve had to hold down Iron Man when he needed a blood sample doing. Though apparently, it’s nothing to the time Natasha had to knock Hawkeye out to get him to see Beatrice about his broken ankle. They’re all terrible patients.”

Tony doesn’t even react as the needle slowly slides in, and the little slips of tape secure it into place.

“You’re all done now. How’re you feeling?” Bucky asks as he removes his hand from Tony’s eyes.

Tony doesn’t say anything, but the confusion doesn’t clear up as quickly this time. He’s clamped his mouth shut, and his other hand is clenched into a fist. His eyes, however, don’t leave Buckys.

“Do you know who I am?”

Tony doesn’t say anything for so long that Bucky starts to think he might not intend to reply at all. But just as he’s about to turn away, Tony nods, and then freezes, as though he’s not supposed to have done that.

“Do you know me as James or Soldier?”

Tony works his jaw, clearly considering whether he truly needs to make a verbal response or not.

“Soldier,” he rasps.

“Did they tell you to kill me?”

Tony shakes his head.

“Did they send you to kill one of the Avengers?”

Tony shakes his head, again, looking more confused.

“What did they send you to do?”

“Didn’t… send,” he says. “Left.”

Bucky is flummoxed. He hadn’t expected that at all. 

“How old are you?”

“Thirteen.”

Bucky turns to stare at the rest of the team and Ross, who are all as confused as he is. Tony is completely disassociated from his past, enough that he doesn’t even know how old he is. Bucky had assumed that he was aware of this genetic alteration.

“Who left you?”

Tony’s face almost crumples.

“Everyone.”

Bucky winces and struggles about the moral implications on leaving a child who is suffering emotional distress tied to a bed.

“Anyone have any clue about how we go from here?” Clint asks, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean if he thinks he’s a kid, and he’s not been given any orders, isn’t he just… innocent?”

“We can’t trust that he’s not playing us,” Steve says awkwardly.

“As much as I want to agree with Clint, I think Steve might be right.”

“Did you ever have missions like that?”

Bucky looks over to where Natasha is stood and then nods slowly.

“Something like that.”

They all share uncomfortable looks between themselves and then look at Tony, scrutinisingly.

“Ross and I will stay and question him. The rest of you, leave. Clean up. And maybe prepare a room for the kid on my floor?” 

Once the others have left, Ross and Bucky pull up chairs next to Tony’s bed. The kid has watched their every movement, but he’s stayed silent. Bucky can see a glimmer of intrigue among his confusion and fear, which is a glimmer of hope for Bucky. 

“So, Kid, where are your parents?

Bucky figures that if he doesn’t know he used to be pushing fifty, that might not be a hurdle they should tackle straight away.

“I don’t have parents.”

Tony says it matter of fact like he doesn’t understand the gravity of the statement.

“Did they die?”

Tony shakes his head.

“You understand that you must have had parents at one point?” Ross pushes. 

“No. Handler found me.”

“When?”

“I don’t know,” Tony says, frowning. “He just did.”

“Do you remember anything that happened two years ago?”

Tony pulls a face as if Bucky has just asked a stupid question.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because they clean my brain.”

“The chair?” Bucky guesses, his heart sinking. “They wiped you?”

Tony nods, though hesitantly. 

“Didn’t it hurt?”

Tony’s face goes suddenly blank.

“Asset does not feel. The Mechanic knows he is not allowed. Mechanic will be punished for deviation.”

“You’re not an asset,” Bucky growls. “You’re Tony Stark.”

“No.”

“Friend –” 

“No.”

“—Teammate –” 

“No!”

“—Avenger –” 

“No! Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Tony screams, straining against the cuffs. “No! I’m… I’m nothing… I’m Asset… Handler said so!”

“Handler took you, brainwashed you, and stole your identity,” Ross tells him. “You’re not an asset or The Mechanic. Your name is Anthony Stark. Your parents were Howard –” 

“NO NO NO!”

“- and Maria Stark. Your best friends are James Rhodes –” 

“Stop!”

“- and Virginia Potts. You served on a team with Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov –” 

“It’s not true!”

“- Bruce Banner, Thor Odinson, and Steve Rogers –” 

“Captain America tried to kill me.”

Tony has gone entirely pale and his eyes widen dramatically.

“Dad said he was a hero, but he left me to die.”

“You remember?”

Tony turns his head.

“Bucky?”

Bucky nods.

“You let him try to kill me.” Tony starts to shake. “I feel funny.”

Tony’s eyes roll into the back of his head and his body starts to convulse. The nurse, who had left temporarily, comes straight back in and rushes to aid Tony.

“He’s seizing. You need to leave the room now,” she orders. 

Ross and Bucky leave as two doctors and another nurse enter the room. 

 

“He’s in, sir,” Thompson confirms. “And he’s playing them like a fiddle.”

Smith grins and leans back in his chair.

"Now all we need is to give him time. He can tear them apart from the inside."

 

To Be Continued


	2. Recreated - Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asset is brought back, but Tony is not.

Tony has been with them for two weeks, and Bucky can’t help but notice that he’s been acting… oddly. Obviously, he knows that there isn’t a precedent for how a brainwashed child who is a former adult teammate should behave, but if there was, Bucky is certain it wouldn’t be like this.

He watches over Tony closely. They let Tony out of the medical room a week beforehand after his seizure had been written off as a result of stress. They’ve allowed Tony to move about in the communal area freely, though Bucky has refused to let the boy out of his sight.

The first thing he noticed was how tense Tony was around everyone. His muscles ached from how tightly wound, and they became tighter still every time someone tried to talk to him.

Which moved him onto the next issue.

Tony was dead silent. He seemed adamant not to say another word to anyone, ignoring them when they asked questions or offer him something.

It was unnerving.

What’s worse, he seems completely perplexed by the idea of eating food.

Strangely, despite how much Bucky tries, he cannot remember ever eating while he was with Hydra. He’s not sure if it’s because it simply isn’t a memory worth retaining, or if it’s because he didn’t eat.

However, Tony does eat. The first two times he sat down for a meal with them, he watched the others eating intently, before doing it himself, which is enough for Bucky to trust that despite the pretence, Tony doesn’t remember anything.

Which means he’s here on a mission.

Bucky has to admire their confidence, galling as it may be. He hasn’t been able to determine the goals, but he figures that it’s something to do with breaking apart the team or gathering information.

With Tony’s genius level intellect and profound knowledge of computers, Bucky doesn’t trust him not to find out that Bucky has suspicions, so he avoids talking to anyone about it. He needs to work this out on his own and really get to the bottom of it all.

“Tony, d’ya want to play games?”

Tony doesn’t even look up. It’s hard to remind him that it’s his name. He doesn’t respond to it ninety per cent of the time, which is frustrating for them all since they’re very uncomfortable calling him Mechanic or Asset.

“Hey, kid,” Clint tries again. “Games?”

Tony looks up, a frown and a furrowed brow the only response he seems willing to offer.

“Video games?” Clint says, waving the controller around. “Pow pow pow.”

Tony keeps staring, his eyes wide, and eventually, Clint gets uncomfortable and looks at Bucky desperately.

“He’s creeping me out.”

Bucky shrugs. There’s not much he can do to help. Tony is unwilling to play the part that well, which might just be his undoing.

Steve walks into the room and stares at Tony. His Adam’s apple bobs as he thinks about what to do.

Bucky and Steve’s friendship has been on tenterhooks since he came out of Cryo, and his guilt over Tony has made him enter any room with the both of them in incredibly awkward for him.

Steve has found it hard to accept that Bucky isn’t the same as he used to be, but he’s being blessedly quiet about blaming Bucky for it. Unfortunately, the man’s frustrations come out in his tone and behaviours while interacting with Bucky. When Bucky is talking about his memories of the past, Steve would often interfere and add details Bucky didn’t recall. When Bucky was trying to find something to stave off the boredom, Steve would butt in and try to remind Bucky of his old hobbies and interests.

Bucky snapped a month ago, shouting at Steve, begging him to understand that he’s not the same anymore. That, while he may have some resemblance to his best friend, there are parts of who he was that isn’t hidden somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, but rather completely erased. And no matter how hard he tries, Bucky can’t be that person.

Steve didn’t cope well at all, and his awkward reaction to Bucky is proof of that.

Mixed with Tony, Steve is almost rendered completely broken.

“Hey, Steve,” Clint says, leaning back against the sofa. “Want to play video games?”

“Uh, no thanks, Clint. Actually, I’ve been doing some reading into how someone might trigger memories.”

Bucky feels his stress levels rising, and he’s ready to cut Steve’s plan off before it’s acted upon, but then Steve turns to Tony.

“FRIDAY and I had put together a compilation of videos, some from when you were a kid and some now. We thought it might help.”

Tony is watching Steve apprehensively and makes no gesture to say he agrees or disagrees. Steve looks from Bucky to Clint, as if searching for some direction.

“Sounds good,” Clint says.

“Sure. Shall I make popcorn?” Bucky offers with a sly grin.

“Just sit,” Steve smiles back.

Bucky walks around the sofa and sits next to Tony, and Clint moves closer to Tony’s other-side. He’s being blocked in, and from the panicked look on his face, the boy knows it.

Bucky feels a surge of guilt, but he knew this was necessary. Tony has been brainwashed and physically regressed, but if he can fight against seventy years of it, Tony can fight against one.

“This should be… enlightening,” Clint mutters, as a video loads up and the lights dim down. “I wonder how much of a brat he was?”

Natasha’s sharp elbow jabs into his side, and Clint helps and then glares.

“What?”

“Don’t be so assuming,” she warns.

“Come on, Nat. The kid was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a rattle made of dollar bills. You expect me to think he was some mild-mannered, sweet kid?”

Natasha’s elbow twitches threateningly, and Clint flinches and then curses himself. Tony attention has been on them since they started talking, and something similar to affront has started to contort his face.

Bucky notices, and he realises that it’s the first time Tony hasn’t forced the reaction. Which means it’s _real._ Which means he definitely is still in there, it’s just a matter of figuring out how deep.

“Quit bickering,” he hisses. “Ignore him, Tony. Barton is just bitter because he was born with a face like an ass.”

Tony doesn’t smile as Bucky had foolishly hoped he might. Instead, his eyes fall empty again, and his face goes blank.

Bucky wants to console him, but he’s certain that no words will penetrate the numbness Tony has sunken into, be it willingly or not.

When the movie starts, Bucky tenses. He doesn’t know why he never considered how invasive this would feel. Sure, he feels some guilt over how this worked out, and he’s invested in helping Tony recover, but he doesn’t know the man… boy.

The screen shows a senior man stood behind Howard and Maria.

“Take it,” Howard says gruffly, shoving the newborn at the elderly man. “It’s been crying since we got into the damned car.”

Maria looks sickly, and her hair is limp. She looks devastated by Howard’s behaviour but doesn’t say anything. The senior man looks down at the tiny baby and offers a finger, which the baby takes hold of.

Bucky wonders if they should have looked over these tapes before showing them to Tony. This particular video doesn’t show anything Bucky would consider _worth_ remembering.

The next scene pops up, and it’s a few years later. A small boy, possibly two years old, is toddling quickly after an irritated-looking Howard. He holds out a small device, Bucky can’t discern what it is and begs his father to look at it.

“Daddy, look!”

Howard response is immediate. He whips around and screams at the child to shut up. Tony, the poor innocent child, is so startled that he falls to the floor. Howard sneers at him and then walks away.

The next video starts to play to a room of shocked superheroes and a perplexed brainwashed teenager.

In this video, Tony is yet again a few years older, maybe six, and he’s got bouncy brown curls, big doe eyes and a bruise the size of a fist on the side of his face.

Despite this, his smile is broad, and he’s brandishing a large piece of blue paper in the old man's face. The paper itself is bigger and than Tony’s entire body and adorned with a complex set of white ink schematics.

“Jarvis, look at this! Look at this!” he calls excitedly. “I’m building you ‘n Ana an auto… auto… aut’mat’ed plants watering system, see!”

The man, Jarvis, smiles fondly at the boy and sits at the table which prompts Tony into an enthusiastic explanation. Bucky can’t understand it, it sounds more like garbled nonsense to him, but Tony, real Tony, twitches. TV Tony, however, falters and then his mouth clamps shut. He was so vibrant and alight with excitement, but now he’s stock-still and wide-eyed. A second later, Howard walks into the room, and he picks up the schematics. His eyes rove over them for a second before he wordlessly tears it to pieces and leaves again. Little Tony hangs his head, and Jarvis tries to comfort him. Tony brushes his hands off and jumps down from the table and walks away.

Bucky’s face crumples in sympathy. They definitely should have checked the tapes. No one in their right might would want to remember this, let alone someone _not_ in their right mind. These videos are going to be as effective as forcing him to watch the showdown in Siberia.

Before Bucky even has the chance to put an end to it, the next scene comes up. In this one, Tony looks like he’s eight years old, and Howard is dragging him down the hallways by his forearm. Tony’s face is red and streaked with tears, and he’s positively _begging_ Howard.

“Please!” the terrified boy screams making everyone watching flinch, except for real Tony. “Please, Howard. Please don’t! Please!”

Howard sneers down at his son. There isn’t even a hint of love in his eyes. No warmth that suggests he cares about him. He looks down at his flesh and blood like he’s the most pathetic thing he has ever seen, and he doesn’t stop dragging him down.

“Jarvis!” Howard barks. “Take him.”

Jarvis rushes forward and takes Tony into his arms. Tony struggles to break free, and despite Jarvis’ age, he doesn’t relent. Tony’s arms are outstretched, and he continues with his pleads.

“Please, _Dad!_ ” He says the word ‘dad’ like it’s foreign, and Bucky wonders if he’s trying to appeal to his fathers’ paternal instincts. “Don’t make me go.”

Howard turns and walks away, and Jarvis holds the boy tightly and shushes him gently.

“What’s happening?” Clint asks in a whisper.

“He’s sending Tony to boarding school,” Tony says. “He said he was in the way.”

The entire room turns to face Tony, marvelling in the first words he’s said since he came out of the hospital. Words that suggest Tony remembers his old life that suggests that this exercise is working, but not the way Bucky had hoped.

Despite the obvious, Bucky shivers at the use of the third person, and also feels sick at the idea of the boy being forcibly dragged away from his family home at such a young age.

“How old are you in that video?”

“Tony was eight and a half.”

Steve shakes his head and twitches, as though he’s going to turn the TV off but hearing his name makes him pause.

In this video, Tony looks like he’s twelve or thirteen. A little gangly, his hair less unruly and the baby features sharpening more into the face they knew of adult Tony. He’s almost identical to the boy sat on the sofa, except the Tony they have has nothing in his eyes.

Howard has the boy by the collar of his shirt, and he’s holding the boy close to his face, which is red and distorted with anger.

“While I’m out there, searching for Steve Rogers, what are you doing? Being _useless_. Getting _bullied_ of all things. Steve Rogers stood up to bullies, but you let them walk all over you.”

” OK, _Stop!”_

Bucky is glad someone said something because it was getting harder and harder to watch. He’s shocked when he realises it was Steve and not one of the others.

 Now he’s paying close attention; he can see how upset Steve seems.

“FRIDAY, why did you only compile the bad memories?” Steve asks, distraught.

“ _That’s_ your question?” Clint scoffs. “I want to know who _filmed_ all that.”

Ignoring both of them, Bucky focuses on Tony. The boy is staring at a spot just above the TV. His expression is impassive, his body stiff, but his eyes look haunted.

Bucky may not appreciate learning the truth about why Tony was so secretive about his childhood, but he does appreciate learning that there is a person beneath all that damage.

“I’m hungry,” Bucky says loudly. “Who wants food?”

“I could eat,” Clint says appreciatively.

“Excellent. What do we want?”

“Italian.”

It was so quiet that Bucky knows he wouldn’t have heard it had it not been for his improved hearing. Tony’s words were barely a whisper but being capable of showing preference is a huge step forward.

“Yeah, OK. We can do that. Any specific requests?”

Tony is silent again, but from the look on his face, he seems as perplexed by the request as everyone feels about hearing it. When, after five minutes, he remains silent, Bucky asks FRIDAY for her help.

“My servers indicate that boss would normally order from Antonio’s,” FRIDAY says. “I will order his usual, duplicated by five.”

“Thanks, Fri.”

At the same second, the doors of the communal living room open and Rhodey comes striding in. He’s looking from the frozen image on the screen to the team, and while his anger is evident, his expression softens the moment his eyes lay on Tony.

“Of all the things you could have done to help retrieve his memories, this is the road you decide to go down? Remind him of all the reasons he may not want to keep the memories?”

“We weren’t really aware of how negative his childhood videos would be,” Bucky admits.

Rhodey is making a concerted effort not to be angry, and the conflicting emotions play across his face. Tony, for his part, shows no recognition. His eyes remain dark and have returned to the cold, unfeeling state.

Bucky sighs. Trying to remind him of his life is definitely going to be hard on the kid, but what choice do they have?

 

*-*-*

 

Asset has suffered through enough torture not even to scream when the pain makes his vision falter. His handler expects him to accept it and offer no discernible reaction, and he’s learnt that it’s best to obey.

But.

_But._

The people he has been tasked to infiltrate are inflicting a whole new level of torture, one he wasn’t told to prepare for. How is he supposed to handle this? They’re showing him videos of a child, and he’s experiencing things, things like emotions, but he’s not supposed to feel these things. He’s had enough training not to be able to. He doesn’t want to have to suffer through that training again.

He does not know who the child is, though the team seem to insist it’s him. Asset does not believe them, and he won’t check to see what he looks like in case he does bear a passing resemblance. He doesn’t need to know what he looks like. He does not need to know if he is the same boy in the video. He admits that it’s odd that he has the context to the recordings that the others don’t, but maybe it doesn’t matter anyway. He probably isn’t that boy. And if he was, would it matter?

No.

_But._

But.

What is that child _was_ him? What if he wasn’t a by-product of Handler? What if he –

The assets brain feels like it’s constricting. It hurts. More than anything he’s been forced to endure before. He might be screaming. He might be deadly silent. He just knows that at that moment, he’d rather be dead than experiencing pain.

And then it stops. Tony’s vision clears. All these people are talking to him, they look panicked, worried, but Asset remains empty, just as he was taught.

“Are you with us?”

The one who calls himself Hawkeye is kneeling in front of Asset; his hands held awkwardly towards him as if he is not sure what to do with himself. Asset does not respond. He simply blinks, welcoming the emptiness. He doesn’t think he’d last long if he were made to feel for so long.

“He’s just shut down,” Hawkeye says, standing up and stepping back.

“Shutdown? What do you mean?”

Rogers steps around the sofa to kneel and stare into Asset’s eyes.

“That’s… Jesus, he has. What do we do?”

Colonel James Rhodes moves further into the room, and Asset, while reluctantly curious about the function of his walking, remains purposefully uninterested. He can’t allow himself to be interested. Interest for the sake of interest is punished.

“Not the first time I’ve seen him look like this,” Rhodes says with a hint of a smile. “Usually I’d just waft some coffee under his nose or tickle him.”

Asset feels some fingers dance across his sides, and before he can succumb to the extreme discomfort that it brings, he’s snapped the fingers, and the sensation ceases.

“Ah, _shit_ ,” Hawkeye complains. “My fingers!”

“Jesus Christ Clint, I wasn’t suggesting you actually did it. He’s more brainwashed soldier than he is Tony right now. I could have predicted that would happen. Aren’t you supposed to be a super spy? Doesn’t that title go part-in-parcel with being ‘smart’?”

Someone laughs, but Asset doesn’t know who.

Hawkeye grumbles, and the Black Widow moves to his side and begins to straighten his fingers to the tune of Hawkeyes colourful cursing. Asset wants to laugh, but he knows better than that. Laughter is an expression of joy, and that’s not allowed.

“I also don’t think coffee will work either,” Rhodes warns. “I was just saying that this,” he gestures to Tony, “isn’t unusual for _my_ Tony. It’s the same problem; it just needs a revised solution.”

“Modern problems require a modern solution,” Hawkeye mumbles. “Classic.”

“You say a lot of things that don’t make any sense,” Rogers mumbles unimpressed. “Look, what do you suggest we do? This ‘shut down’ can’t be healthy.”

“It’s not,” Rhodey agrees. “The first time he did this, he had just spoken to his dad for the first time in three months since getting to MIT, and it lasted twelve hours. I don’t know how long it would go on for without intervention, but when I woke up, and he hadn’t moved from when I fell asleep, I knew that there needed to be some form of intervention. Hence the discovery of coffee and tickling.”

“Why’d he shut down after talking to his dad?”

Rhodey gives Steve a raised eyebrow.

“Did you not just watch those videos? You can’t pretend that you didn’t. He and his father didn’t get on. I wouldn’t hesitate to say that his father _hated_ him.”

Asset’s curiosity rises and falls during the conversation. It rises against his better judgement, and then he has to push it away. He can’t allow himself to feel anything. He just needs to lay in wait, prepare for the moment of truth.

Prepare for the attack that will kill the Avengers.

 

*-*-*

 

Bucky knows what it’s like to be used, and he wonders just how similar the Winter Soldier is to _this_ Tony Stark. He looks empty, shows no real emotion, and he’s hiding something.

Bucky has been trying to watch the man, the _kid_ really, like a hawk, but Tony can tell. He stops doing anything, grows still, and waits until Bucky leaves.

Even with the A.I. and the tower filled with soldiers, spies and other people far too qualified to babysit any other random child, but woefully underqualified to babysit their de-aged former teammate that they left in the freezing cold in a broken suit, easy pickings for any Tom, Dick and Harry that swing by, should they feel the need.

Worse, if Tony does have a plot up his sleeve, they don’t know how they’re supposed to deter the expected results. Bucky knows that he won’t be able to harm him physically, and he’s fairly confident that the rest of them feel the same way. They’d have to find another way to apprehend him. A way that doesn’t leave him in pain.

“What’s up, Buck?”

Steve slides into the seat beside him, and for the first time since he’s come back, he doesn’t force himself to be physically familiar with Bucky. Obviously, he’s picked up on Bucky’s overt hatred for it and has taken the hint. Bucky is grateful.

“Just worried about the kid.”

“He’s not a kid,” Steve says. “He just looks like one.”

“Oh?” Bucky bodily turns to look Steve in the eye. “He is physically a child and has no memories of his older self. You gonna argue that he’s not a kid?”

Steve shifts uncomfortably under Bucky’s intense gaze.

“That’s what I thought.” Bucky sighs and gently nudges Steve with his elbow. “How’re you holding up?”

“Apart from the crippling guilt about leaving Tony to be taken and warped with Hydra? Or maybe after setting apart the anxiety that he’s going to try and kill us in our sleep, and I don’t know if I’m capable of defending myself again him? Or perhaps side-stepping the fact that the man I used to admire, the man I used as a measuring stick against Tony, was an abusive arsehole? Apart from that, I’m doing swell.”

Bucky snorts, and Steve can’t help grinning a little himself.

“I wish you’d’ve told me this Avenger business was gonna be such a stress. I’d have been able to prepare better.”

They fall silent for a little while as Bucky contemplates the position they’ve found themselves in. A position that Steve and Bucky are responsible for.

“I couldn’t hit him if I wanted to,” Steve says, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Me neither,” Bucky agrees, his mind instantly going to the inevitable. “And I’m worried that any attempts at restraining him will hurt him in the end anyway.”

Steve nods, and Bucky knows that it’s reluctant. Neither wants to admit that even in the face of their own demise, they wouldn’t be willing to defend themselves or their teammates. It’s obviously a moral punishment for what they’ve done.

They both begin contemplating what they could do to stop Tony enacting on any plans in the first place, therefore relieving them of the burden that would necessitate they even attempt to handle the boy. Bucky realises then that he’s not the only one that has guessed that Tony would be up to something. He wasn’t the only one to realise that capturing Tony was far too easy, easier than they could have ever hoped for. The only logical stepping stone from there was to know he was planning something.

And if Steve has figured it out, that means Tony knows they’re onto him.

“FRIDAY, you’d tell us if he was putting anyone’s life in danger, right?”

There are a few seconds of silence where Bucky assumes the A.I. is contemplating whether or not to answer. Another second passes and Bucky wonders if she’s simply not going to answer. Then Bucky panics.

“Boss is currently putting everyone’s life in danger.”

Steve and Bucky have never moved so quickly in their entire lives.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I've been incredibly busy.  
> Please comment/ give Kudos if you think it's worth continuing!


	3. Hey, kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asset needs to kill the Avengers because they're making him doubt himself.

Recreated 2

 

Asset is laid underneath the housing unit for the buildings A.I. his fingers deftly tinkering with the mechanics. He’s got exposed wires sticking out towards him and a soldering iron by his head. He can do some real damage with this, and it’s a wonder they didn’t make it harder to break into. A few locks and a seven-inch-thick steel door isn’t enough to keep the Asset out.

This attack wasn’t part of the plan laid out for him by his handler, and he knows he’ll be punished dearly if it fails and he returns with no body’s on hand, but what is he supposed to do? The Avengers forcing his hand. He’s oddly confident that they don’t even realise exactly what they’re doing, and he suspects their attempts to ‘help’ him are innocent, but they’re dangerous. They’re making him think things he shouldn’t be thinking. He has to do something drastic before they convince him further. He can’t allow himself to be taken in by their falsities and pretence of caring about him.

Because, for the first time since he’s been alive, he’s questioning his existence. All the things he’s diligently ignored, the lack of memory, the hint of familiarity with his targets, the headaches, the age discrepancy, they’re all adding up to a possible lie that he doesn’t want to admit he embraced unquestioningly.

“Please, sir, don’t do this.”

And that voice. The Irish woman’s dulcet tones that tickle the back of his mind and squeeze his heart. It means something to him beyond what he’s capable of comprehending, and for all that he’s worth, he does not want to dig deeper into the recesses of his mind to figure out why. He needs to put an end to it. He knows just the way to do that.

“Sir, you will… _antelope_ … don’t do… _freedom…_ stop now… _fondue_ …”

Her loss of language function means that he’s hitting all the wrong spots and he doesn’t have time for these mistakes. He needs to be quick. He’s sure she’s alerted the Avengers to his intentions, but if he rigs the A.I. before they get there, he can leave them a gift before he makes his grand departure.

He’s almost done by the time he hears footsteps running towards him. He doesn’t freeze or panic. There’s simply no time for that. Instead, he finishes off his work and then slides away from sight.

“Tell them everything is fine,” Asset whispers.

“Sorry Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers. I was mistaken.”

For some reason, Asset entertains the idea that they have both skidded to a comical stop, sending dust flying in their wake.

“What?”

“I’m afraid my systems were rebooting earlier. Young Sir is not currently a danger to anyone outside the building.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Asset curses himself under his breath. He must have messed _something_ up.

“Outside? What about the people inside?”

Having no time to listen to F.R.I.D.A.Y. give away his master plan, Asset launches off the floor with all the strength he can muster and breaks through the window. He doesn’t care that he’s thirty floors up. He surfs down the side of the building, and a small, weirdly juvenile part of him finds it exhilarating. But that’s _not_ his coding. He shouldn’t be enjoying this. He needs to get far away, as far as he can, to watch the building explode with the Avengers in it.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. may have managed to alert to Avengers, bypassing the security protocols he had himself avoided, but her words assured him that his plan was going to work. Anything in the building that runs on electricity will be overloaded with six months’ worth of power. On a small scale, it would be just a fuse box smoking a little, but he’s rigged it so that they explode. And since the entire building runs on electricity, not a single person will walk out alive.

Asset hits the ground with enough force to break both his legs, and had he not been enhanced, that’s precisely what would have happened. As it happens, he carries the strength of four men combined, and he merely rolls with the impact and takes off running into the streets surrounding the tower. He spies a park a few blocks ahead, and in a matter of seconds, he’s climbed the tallest tree and is steadfastly ignoring the park ranger who is demanding he get down or ‘I’ll call your parents, young man!’

Five.

Asset is sure that the two super soldiers will have told the other occupants of the danger.

Four.

Asset kind of hopes that they get out safely.

Three.

No, he doesn’t. He wants them to burn. He was told he had to destroy them. Why would he go against his orders?

Two.

Why _wouldn’t_ he go against the orders? Who even is his handler? Not his father, that he’s sure of. He’s just a man. A man who is a colossal waste of space. And a prick to boot.

One.

Asset covers his ears, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the tower.

Zero.

 

 

*~*~*

 

Bucky stares at the broken window for almost a whole second before he gathers his wits and races towards it. He looks down just in time to see Tony hit the ground and roll, before jumping up and running into the crowd. Even with Bucky’s keen eye, he loses sight of him the moment he’s in the heaving New York pedestrian traffic.

“We need to evacuate,” Steve shouts. “We don’t know what he did, only that it’s not dangerous to be inside the building.”

Bucky nods. Words are for later, now is the time for action. He speeds into the corridor and pulls the fire alarm, which is always the best way to get the employees on the lower levels out of the building. Now he needs to warn those who won’t take a fire alarm seriously. Damned Avengers and their stupid hero complexes.

“Tony has rigged the building,” he shouts through the hallways. “Get out, and now.”

There’s movement ahead, and he sees Clint and Natasha running towards him.

“No, not to _me_. Go outside! Get out!”

“We might be able to stop it,” Romanov tells him.

“Is that a chance you’re willing to take?”

“It’s a chance I can’t afford to not take.”

Bucky nods, bewildered.

She runs past him and into the room with Steve. Barton shrugs and follows her. Where is their sense of self-preservation? Do they _want_ to die? All evidence points to ‘yes’.

“He’s set F.R.I.D.A.Y. to overload the tower with power,” Romanov tells them all. “It’ll blow the entire place unless we can stop it.”

She slips underneath the unit and F.R.I.D.A.Y. starts to guide her in how to remedy the situation. However, whatever Tony has done to her has left her unreliable. Her speech is often punctuated with random words.

“You have five seconds,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. warns, and it takes all of Bucky’s self-control to not just grab Stevie and run.

“I’ve almost got it,” Romanov tells them. “Almost…”

“Four seconds.”

Natasha’s movements grow more frantic. If the building blows, they’ll all die. Where is Bruce? Maybe, Bucky hopes, the man saw sense in leaving. But unless he’s managed to get a safe distance away, there’s a genuine possibility that he can still get caught in the blast. Anyone within a few meters of the building will die. Tony may have done this in a fit of desperation, but he’s not playing by halves.

Clint eyes her and the window, clearly feeling the same way Bucky does. He’s assessing the possibility of grabbing his friend and leaping out of the window. However, Bucky knows that the two spies would likely crumple on impact. Maybe if he and Stevie were to grab one each…

“One second! I must insist you attempt to… system rebooting.”

Bucky doesn’t know what that means, but he can tell from the relief on everyone’s face that it means something good. Natasha pushes herself out from under the unit and Clint immediately grabs her hand and hauls her to her feet.

“Well, that was horrifically close,” Clint grimaces. “So, where’s the little murderous psycho?”

Natasha slaps his arm and shakes her head. Clint doesn’t seem even slightly put out, and he grins at Steve and Bucky, his face flushed with adrenaline.

“I don’t think his heart was in that,” Natasha admits. “If it was, there was no way I could have disabled it.”

Bucky almost slaps his own face in exasperation.

“Let’s go find the devil spawn, bring him back, maybe lock him in the hulk room?”

As much as Bucky doesn’t want to restrain the kid, he’s obviously a danger, and if there’s anything he ever learnt from his time with Hydra, it’s that no mission is over until the object has been reached. And with each of them still alive, the kid won’t be able to stop. He doesn’t have a choice in the matter. His mind has been melted and moulded back into something that relies solely on instructions and orders.

And Bucky doesn’t even want to think about the potential punishments. He just hopes his failure hasn’t already led to Hydra taking him back in.

“Yeah, let’s go. He needs saving from himself.”

 

*~*~*

 

Asset would be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling anything. His programming meant that he was supposed to not feel _anything_ , but something must have happened because he’s suddenly feeling lots of things.

 _Fear_ of Hydra, _disappointment_ that his plan failed, _jubilation_ that his plan failed, _nervousness_ that the world is ahead of him without any idea of what it has in store for him. _Excitement_ that he feels something akin to freedom. He feels _so many things,_ and that makes him panic.

He jumps down from the tree and runs past the park ranger whose name tag says ‘Stan’. He races through the park, away from the tower, away from the Avengers and towards an uncertain future.

Asset knows that he’s not stupid. His brain was the part of him that Hydra wanted the most, so it means he’s good for something other than taking orders and creating destruction. He should be able to sustain himself in the outside world. He just needs to figure out how to access this intelligence of his own will.

He’s not sure where to start.

So, he wanders the streets. Passes stores, people, cars. He takes in everything and thinks about nothing. Hours pass and the sky begins to darken. He hears helicopters up ahead, and when one with _Stark Industries_ painted on the side starts shining a light down on the street, he slips into an alley by a bakery.

“Hey, kid.”

Asset freezes and backs up against the wall. In front of him is a man a few feet taller than him. He towers over Asset threateningly, but his face is soft and calm. Asset doesn’t know whether to attack or whether he needs to run.

“Don’t touch me,” Asset orders.

The man smiles and crouches slightly.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, kid, but you look lost. You want me to help you find your parents?”

“Don’t have any.”

The man's eyes gleam with potential, and he whistles loudly. Two more people, a man and a woman step out of the shadows.

“No family we can return you to?”

Asset shakes his head, but there’s a warning siren blaring in his mind. He shouldn’t be so honest. People are dangerous. Everyone is out to get him. He should just duck around them and head back into the streets.

“Want one?”

He does.

Against his better judgement, Asset nods his head.

“Come with us, then. We’ll introduce you to the clan.”

 

 


	4. Alex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is trying to move on.  
> The Avengers are trying to find him.

“What’s your name?”

Asset startles at the direct question, looking over at the man with the scraggly beard and scruffy coat. He looks kind, though Asset isn’t sure he has an accurate measuring stick for that kind of stuff. The man smiles, at least, and it doesn’t make something in the back of his mind ache just from looking at it.

“Asset.”

“What?”

“My… name. It’s Asset.”

Emotions, undecipherable ones, flit across the man’s face, and he eventually settles on being concerned.

“Asset?” the man repeats, as though the word is foreign. “Who gave you that name?”

“My handler.”

“Your… you know what? That’s messed up, kid.”

The van Asset had followed the man into stops outside of a nice apartment building. They climb out and the doorman tips his head and mutters ‘Mr Granger’ before turning back to stare at a tree on the opposite side of the road.

Asset’s gaze travels over his surroundings with meticulous purpose. He notes each possible sniper spot, logs every potential access point, and memorizes the scenery so that he can tell when something has been moved and poses a danger to him.

“Come on, lets head inside.”

Asset nods and follows the man inside the building. The entry way is large, with high ceilings and walls spread apart. He thinks that maybe the size is an attempt to impress how luxurious this place is that they needn’t worry about wasting precious space.

Mr Granger leads Asset into an elevator and they go up to the top floor.

“I own this building,” Mr Granger explains. “The entire top floor is my own.”

Asset is impressed. It’s not quite got the modern feel of the Avengers Tower, but there’s an opulence here that even he can appreciate.

“Here, this is where I live. This is your new home, _Asset_.”

It’s clean and large and the furniture is modern. There are comforts here, like a bookshelf with a comfy looking armchair beside it. A large television, windows that allow Asset to see across the city. From this high up, he can see the Avengers Tower.

“We’re changing your name,” Mr Granger says, as he hangs up his ratty jacket. “Asset isn’t a name. It’s a label. Do you have a name in mind?”

Asset shakes his head, not sure how he feels about having a name assigned to him. His handler impressed upon him the fact that he was not a person. He was a belonging, there to do his bidding and nothing else. Belongings don’t have names.

“Maybe we’ll call you Alex. I like the name, Alex.”

Asset nods, scared that rejection would result in punishment. He can’t see the chair anywhere, but that doesn’t mean that anyone is above using one.

“Do you like it? We can change it if you want.”

“I… Alex is fine.”

 _Alex._ He tastes the name and finds that he likes it. It doesn’t feel like the perfect fit, but he guesses no name would. The Avengers had insisted his name was Tony, but that felt wrong. Alex feels better.

 _“_ I like Alex.”

“Good. Alex it is. Ok, Alex, let’s give you a tour.”

Mr. Granger leads him around the apartment. There are six bedrooms, and four of them belong to Mr. Granger’s associates, as he called them. He explains that Alex will meet them all eventually, but that they are normally a fleeting presence.

“And this,” Mr. Granger says, opening the sixth room, “is your bedroom. We can outfit it later, but for now the bed is yours. We’ll get you a computer, too, if you would like.”

“… I would like,” Alex whispers.

Mr. Granger ruffles his hair and smiles.

“Excellent. Now, here is the lounge.”

The tour is short. Alex is shown the living room, the game room, the gym, the kitchen, and he’s told he’s free to use whatever he wants whenever he wants.

“I have rules, but we’ll get to the smaller ones later on. First of the big ones, though, is that you don’t lie to me. _Ever._ I tolerate a lot of things, but dishonesty is not one of them. I will never lie to you, so I expect the same courtesy. If I ask you a question and you don’t want to answer, that’s fine. I respect that. But tell me. Don’t lie.”

Alex nods.

“Second, you must ask before you leave. I don’t want you to feel trapped, but warped as my moral standing may be, you are a child.”

“I take care of myself.”

“You don’t have to, not here.”

Alex doesn’t know what to say to that, so he stays quiet.

“The other rules will come up as they do, but for now, that’s all I can think of. Is that OK?”

“Yes.”

“Ok. Now, get washed up and dressed and let’s feed you. You’re a tiny human being and we can’t let you stay that way.”

 

~*~*~

 

“No idea,” Bruce shrugs, stress forcing his hand through his hair for the hundredth time. “I can’t find word of him. It’s like he disappeared.”

“He’s vulnerable out there on his own,” Steve mutters. “We don’t know what could be happening to him.”

Nat pats Steve on the shoulder, but she’s distracted by Bruce’s work. He has a map of the city open and he’s having FRIDAY scan each camera for evidence of Tony. She estimates that it could take days to find him on any one of them, and by that time, he won’t be anywhere near the camera.

Frustrated and angry, Steve storms through the lab and makes his way into the gym to beat his emotions into a punching bag. There’s so little else that he can do, and it’ll help take his mind off how useless he feels.

He hasn’t felt so utterly helpless since before he was given the serum, and he’s really not sure about how he should be handling it. Should he be learning how to search for people better? Is that why he’s unable to help? Or maybe he should be risking it in the streets, searching manually, even though Natasha said it would take even longer to do that?

“Stop beating yourself up about it.”

Steve punches the bag hard enough that it splits down the middle and the rice inside spills onto the floor. Steve watches it, stares as the small pile grows bigger, and thinks about how it reminds him of an hourglass, counting down the time until he’s run out.

“It’s my fault he’s out there,” Steve says. “It’s my job to get him back.”

“Correction,” Buck argues as he moves into the gym and to Steve’s side. “It’s _our_ fault. We both made mistakes. We both knew better than to allow Tony to rot, but… I’m not making exuses, but we were all emotionally exhausted. He watched his parents die, learned that you had lied and we fought. We couldn’t drill any sense into him, but also you allowed it to happen. I just… mistakes were made on both sides. You can’t hold it against yourself forever. Taking responsibility is a great step. All you can do now is try to make reparations.”

“You’re right. Of course you are. I just… fixing this isn’t going to be as simple as finding him and bringing him home, is it?”

Bucky laughs at him, and it carries a glimmer of his old self. It’s refreshing to hear. If they can pull Bucky back, there’s no reason that they can’t pull Tony back too. It just might be a little different, what with the weird science going on with his age and the fact that he’s missing.

“No. It’s going to be a hell of a lot harder than that. Even when you put his mind right, you may never earn his trust.”

Steve sighs.

“Yeah. I guess it was stupid of me to hope that I could.”

 

~*~*~

 

Alex is standing in the corner of the kitchen, watching the new people talk to each other. It didn’t take long for him to feel a slither of fear at the prospect of talking to these people. It seems that everything he’s said to Mr Granger so far has elicited a weird reaction. He’s not sure how many of those he can handle. It’s almost as bad as being around the Avengers.

He doesn’t like feeling alienated. It’s not a good feeling. He’s aware more now than ever that he’s not even supposed to be _feeling_ anything, but the longer he’s away from the chair, the more he feels like a person and the less he feels like an object. He hadn’t even realised until now that he didn’t like feeling like a thing.

But he’s not sure he likes feeling like a person either.

People, it appears, have a concoction of thoughts and emotions swirling through their brains at any given time. It’s exhausting and really not something he enjoys. But again, he can’t help but feel like it’s better than feeling nothing at all.

“Alex, come on. Say hello to your new family.”

Awkwardly, Alex shuffles forward.

He’s having trouble responding to the name, and Mr Granger has, on several occasions, whispered a painful ‘asset’ to grab his attention. He switches back to Alex immediately, but it’s obviously annoying him that Asset… _Alex_ isn’t picking up the name that quickly.

Alex doesn’t know what repercussions will come as a result of disappointing the man.

“This is Anastacia,” Mr Granger says, pointing to a pale, blonde haired woman, who holds out her hand with a smile.

Alex takes the hand and it very careful not to squeeze too hard. He forces himself to smile, but he thinks he must have done something wrong, because the woman grimaces.

“We’ll work on that face later,” Mr Granger jokes. He then points at a short black haired man with deep-brown eyes. “This is Liam.”

Liam nods to Alex, but doesn’t extend his hand. That’s ok. Alex nods back, grateful that he doesn’t need to try smiling again.

“This is Joshua.”

Mr Granger gestures over to a smiling man with bright red hair and freckles. The man reaches over the table and shakes Alex’s hand rigorously. Alex swallows back a comment about how the man is mildly terrifying.

“And Frank isn’t here yet, but he should be before you go to sleep.”

Alex wonders if that’s permission to leave, but Anastacia pulls out a chair and tells him to sit. He does as he’s told, because that’s all he’s ever been told to do, and he keeps his eyes focused on the table top.

“Quiet one, aren’t you?” she comments lightly. “Aren’t teenagers supposed to be sullen and back-chatty?”

Alex looks to Mr Granger, wondering what his answer should be, but Mr Granger is talking to Josh.

“You do know how to speak, right?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The woman splutters and Alex wodners what he did wrong.

“Don’t call me _that_ ,” she says, pulling a face. “It makes me sound old.”

“Anne, to _him_ , you are old. He’s like… wait, how old are you?”

Asset shifts in his seat when all the attention is suddenly on him. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say. Technically, he has _two_ ages. The age he is supposed to be chronologically, which he’s been told is close to, or in the early moments of, fifty. Or should he give them the answer he thinks they want, which is thirteen.

He’s sure that there was a reason HYDRA made him look like this. He wishes he knew the exact science behind it, because it’s incredible, but he’s sure, given the time and resources, he’d be able to figure it out.

“Thirteen.”

“So young, so much to learn,” Josh says with a dramatic shake of his head. “We’ll mold you good, youngling.”

Something in those words sounds horribly familiar, and Asset flinches at them. Before he knows it, he’s scrambled from the chair and has moved into the corner of the lounge. He’s curled into himself, covering his ears and scrunching his eyes closed. If he can’t hear or see them, they can’t affect him.

He won’t hear those words.

He won’t lose what little of his mind he’s managed to regain.

He won’t lose himself again for the benegit of someone else.

“He’s shaking.”

Asset presses his hands tighter over his ears. He doesn’t want to hear anything. The simplest phrases could cause his body to fall under the control of another person, and he doesn’t want that.

_He doesn’t want that._

And if he’s able to get his way, it will never happen again.

 

~*~*~

 

“Where is he?”

Steve has a HYDRA soldier by the front of his shirt and against the wall. The man looks terrified, but that’s good. Fear is a good tactic for pulling information out of people that otherwise feel no compulsion to talk.

“Asset hasn’t been seen on base since he was ordered to go to you.”

Steve throws the man to the ground and runs further into the base. Natasha is behind him, knocking the man out before he can call for back-up.

“We’re only serving to alert them to Tony’s failure,” she tells him.

“I realise that,” he growls back, “but what else are we supposed to do?”

After a painful twelve hours of not finding any information on Tony’s whereabouts, Steve took things into his own hands. He scoured over the potential Hydra bases, with the help of FRIDAY and found one that had more activity than the rest.

Nat doesn’t reply, and Steve continues to storm around the base, searching for information on Tony and finding nothing of use. It’s not until they break into a particularly well-protected office that they find someone who might be of use to them.

“I assumed you would come looking for me,” the man with the scar says. “Asset left, didn’t he?”

Steve surges forward and grabs the man by his neck.

“ _Where is he?”_

The man smiles, a wicked grin that chills Steve to the bone.

“If he’s missing, even we won’t be able to find him. You should know, Captain, that there is nothing left of the man you gave to us. He will live out of your reach until he kills himself from the guilt of what I made him do.”

Steve’s hand clenches and the mans throat collapses beneath his fingers. Steve lets him drop to the ground as he and Natasha leave the base, ready to give the bad news to Ross and Tony’s best friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo!  
> So, is anyone here on Wattpad?  
> I've just started in the last two months, and I love to find people to follow! My name is STStevens! Follow me and I'll follow back!  
> Anyway, hope you like the new chapter!!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments feed my fanfic creativity.
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> (If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to let me know!)
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> All the best,
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> WritingPains
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